


A Song Of Blood And Magic

by WickedTheRedHorse



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-24
Updated: 2019-03-21
Packaged: 2019-11-05 01:36:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 18,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17909513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WickedTheRedHorse/pseuds/WickedTheRedHorse
Summary: If the main characters from A Song Of Ice And Fire were part of the Harry Potter universe. The great houses of Westeros are instead the pureblood families of 20th century Britain. Includes all original Harry Potter characters (follows that storyline with some ASOIAF changes). The major families of Westeros are all there, though some minor characters are not.First Year now up, second year started, others soon to follow. Like the Harry Potter books, it becomes more detailed with each year. Like the ASOIAF books, more POV characters are added as you go on. So far it is Harry and Rhaenys.





	1. Chapter 1

**The Green-Eyed Man**

Harry Potter had been having strange encounters with strange people his entire life. People he didn't know shaking his hand in the street, or greeting him enthusiastically, and someone had even bowed to him once in a shop. His aunt and uncle had been furious over that, no matter how much he said he didn't know the man. However, the one that really stood out in his memory occurred when he was six years old. It wasn't so memorable because the stranger in question was any more extraordinary or weird looking than the others; if anything the man was the most ordinary of the lot, with no bowing or enthusiastic hand shaking, and even fairly normal clothes (but Harry knew he was strange like the others, he just couldn't say how or why). In fact, Harry barely remembered what he looked like, only that he was tall and blonde, and had very green eyes. No, the reason the encounter stood out to him so much was of what the man had done.

Harry had been sat on his own, as usual. He was in the park, pinching his nose since it was bleeding after Dudley got lucky and managed to catch him for once. Or rather, his friends had grabbed Harry whilst his cousin punched him in the face, breaking his glasses. Harry had managed to wriggle free and run away, struggling to see through the cracked frames that he had to hold up to his face - he'd have to sellotape them back together again later - and was currently sat half hidden behind the trees and bushes at the edge of the park, watching dully as Aunt Petunia pushed Dudley on the swings. They had arrived some time after him, and neither of them knew he was there - Aunt Petunia didn't care where he went, though she fussed over Dudley even when he was just in the back garden - but Harry preferred it that way. No one made him do chores when he was on his own, no one shouted, no one called him a freak.

Then suddenly, he was not on his own.

"Hello," A man was stood over him. Tall, blonde, green eyes. Harry hadn't heard him approach, and stopped pinching his nose; it had stopped bleeding, anyway.

"Hello," He said, a little warily. The man had a nice smile, and didn't look particularly threatening, but Aunt Petunia smiled nicely enough in front of anyone who wasn't him. They'd been taught at school about stranger danger, about bad people stealing away little boys and girls; his teacher had said that if they were ever approached by a man they didn't know then they should scream, or run away. Harry didn't scream, and he didn't run either. If Uncle Vernon was to be believed, no stranger would want him anyway, so he wasn't too worried.

"Why aren't you playing with the other children?" The man came and sat down on the slightly grass beside him, not seeming to care that it was damp, and a little muddy. That was weird, for a grown up.

"I don't know," He didn't want to admit to anyone else that he had no friends, and his family would rather he wasn't there.

"You're all alone in a park, and you're barely six. There must be a reason," Harry narrowed his eyes, suspicious as to why the man was asking all these questions, and how he knew how old he was. He didn't ask, though. _Don't ask questions_.

"I'm not alone," He said instead. "That's my aunt and cousin, over there," He'd met the well-meaning adult-type before, usually mothers at the park who asked him where his mummy was, and if he was lost, and tried to take him back home. He'd learned to avoid them, and they now avoided him too, after their own children told them about the weird kid at school and they started to talk amongst themselves about 'that freakish Potter boy'. 

Somehow this man didn't seem to fit the well-meaning adult-type. 

"Oh yes," The stranger seemed to recognise his aunt, eyeing the Dursleys for a moment and then turning back to Harry. "Is your cousin the fat one, blonde hair?" Harry let out a snort of laughter.

"My aunt says he looks like a baby angel," He found himself saying. "I think he looks like a pig in a wig," He then realised what he'd said and turned horrified to the man, only to find him grinning.

"You don't like your cousin much?" He asked. Harry said nothing. Over by the swings, Dudley was having a tantrum. The man raised an eyebrow. "Can't imagine why. He reminds me of my sister's boy, just three times the size," He turned back to Harry. "Did he do that?" He gestured to his bloody nose, and the broken glasses he was still holding to his face. 

"He doesn't normally catch me," Harry said, slightly defensive. The man smiled wryly.

"Of course you'd be fast," He said, an odd look on his face for a split second. Then he straightened. "James always needed glasses. His stayed on his face without him holding them, though,"

"Who's James?" Harry asked. The man wasn't paying attention. 

"Let's see..." Without an answer, he grabbed the glasses from Harry, who gave a small cry of protest as his vision blurred. He reached out, snatching wildly at the vague smudged figure of the man, until he suddenly felt the glasses be pressed into his hand again. He crammed them onto his face, and blinked in surprise as he discovered the lenses weren't cracked anymore. Not even the small chip in the glass that had been there before. And, he realised, they weren't broken in half. Even before Dudley had hit him today, they had been taped together. Now they weren't. They were even better than when Aunt Petunia had first got them. He turned to the man, who had amusement written all over his face.

"How did you do that?" He asked, a little awed, a little suspicious.

"I'm a wizard," The man said with a smirk. "Magic," Harry didn't believe him, but said nothing. You never got a straight answer out of grown ups when they said that.

"Well, thanks," He mumbled.

"No problem," The man shrugged. "They shouldn't break so easily again, either," Harry looked at the flimsy NHS frames doubtfully, but didn't argue. "Now," He turned to Harry. "You'll have to forgive me, but I need you to help me test something. You don't have to do much. Just yell as loud as you can," Without warning, he grabbed Harry's wrist and hauled him to his feet, dragging him rather roughly out of the bushes. Harry immediately started to struggle - he _knew_ he shouldn't have trusted anyone being nice to him - vaguely noticing that the blonde haired man had changed; his hair was now brown, his face uglier, and Harry was sure he had been taller and leaner before. Maybe it was a different man? Maybe his glasses had been more broken than he thought. But no, those green eyes were still there. They weren't green like his own, they were... brighter, and unmistakable.

"Let me go!" Harry was scared, angry too, as eyes from people in the park began to be drawn towards them. There weren't many, just his Aunt, cousin, and a woman with her daughters. "I don't know you, get off," The man ignored him. Harry's heart sank. Would the police even look for him, or would the Dursleys tell them not to bother? But then his eyes widened as he saw Aunt Petunia hurrying over, even as Dudley shrieked in protest from the swings behind her.

"What are you doing?" She asked the man sharply, in the voice that usually meant Harry was in big trouble. "That's my nephew,"

"Is he?" The man's voice was different too. Before, he'd had an accent; Harry thought it sounded Irish, a bit like that man on telly. Now he sounded like he came from Surrey, like them. He was just as charming, though, too polite for someone who'd just tried to drag a child away. "Sorry, my mistake. Just making sure the boy is... safe," He let Harry go. His Aunt grabbed his wrist tightly with her bony fingers, pulling him towards her and eyeing the man suspiciously as he stepped back. 

"Do I know you?" Aunt Petunia snapped. "You're one of _them_ ," She said 'them' in a lowered voice, like it was a dirty word.

"We've met," He shrugged. "Ill be off, then. He seems safe at least, if not as happy as hoped," He winked at Harry with those sharp green eyes, and seemed to... grow as he walked away. Then Aunt Petunia was dragging Harry away by the wrist, hissing furiously in his ear about getting himself kidnapped. Harry said nothing. He was still more than surprised she'd come to help him, and wondered where he'd be if she hadn't. For a moment, he felt more than fear and anger towards the woman. 

He forgot that, however, when she locked him in his cupboard with no dinner when they got home. Apparently the whole thing had been his fault. He wasn't surprised, though. It normally was. 


	2. The Demon Of The Trident

 

Harry still couldn't fully comprehend everything that had happened since last night. All the letters following them had been odd, as had the vanishing glass at the zoo (though that had been funny as well), but a giant breaking down their door in the middle of a storm, telling him he's a wizard, yelling at his aunt and uncle then giving Dudley a pig tail was beyond mad. Yet... it made sense. He believed it. He idly rubbed the bridge of his glasses; they hadn't broken since he was six, even with the large amount of times they'd taken a hit. Harry eyed Hagrid as he read his paper, the Daily Prophet.

"Ministry o' Magic messin' things up as usual," Hagrid muttered, turning the page.

"There's a Ministry of Magic?" Harry asked, before he could stop himself. He'd learnt the hard way that people - Uncle Vernon, anyway - liked to be left alone when they did this.

"'Course," Hagrid said. "They wanted Dumbledore fer Minister, o'course, but he'd never leave Hogwarts, so old Cornelius Fudge got the job. Bungler if ever there was one. So he pelts Dumbledore with owls every morning, askin' fer advice. He's too ruddy scared to go ter his own deputy, not after he turned his cloak against him in the election. Shame, that. Tywin Lannister migh' be a heartless bastard, but least he knows what he's doin',"

*

Diagon Alley was incredible, and Harry was overwhelmed by the multitude of sights and sounds and smells surrounding him. The people were dressed so strangely, in robes and cloaks, and didn't bat an eyelid at the stalls selling magical potions. One family even walked past with six large husky dogs following behind each of the children; Hagrid seemed awestruck by this, and stopped for a minute to talk to the father in that group, a rather stern-looking dark haired man. 

"Are you a first year?" Harry was startled as one of the older boys, the stockier one with red hair, spoke to him. He had a Scottish accent, as did the rest of the family.

"Yes," He replied. "I'm Harry,"

"I'm Robb," The boy grinned, his face open and friendly. "Fourth year, just starting anyway, and so's my cousin Jon. We're Gryffindors," The dark haired boy beside him smiled faintly, but seemed to take after his solemn uncle with his serious face. "My sister Sansa is in first year, though," He nudged the tall, red haired girl beside him forward. 

"Nice to meet you," Harry said a little unsurely, and though the girl greeted him politely she seemed rather disinterested and soon turned back to giggling with her friend. 

"Are you muggleborn?" A wild looking little girl of around nine asked him. She was fairly small and slight, with dark hair. 

"What've we said about being rude, Arya?" Their mother, an austere red-haired woman who looked like Sansa said pointedly, though smiled knowingly at Harry. "No need to answer, child, my daughter needs to learn some manners," She knew who he was even if her children didn't, he could tell.

They soon said their goodbyes to the Starks. It turned out that the huskies were not in fact huskies, but _wolf pups_. Some magical breed called direwolves. Apparently they would grow to the size of a horse, which slightly unnerved Harry, though he had heard Mr Stark promising an eager Hagrid to send him one if they ever had more pups. But then again, Hagrid had said he wanted a dragon.

*

The Leaky Cauldron wasn't as overwhelming the second time he passed through, after they'd done all the shopping for school. Everyone was fairly quiet, allowing for the two exceptions - a man and woman arguing loudly - to be heard crystal clear. Perhaps they were the reason most people had left.

"I cannot believe you would humiliate me in public like this," A very beautiful woman with long blonde hair hissed sharply. She wore eye-catching robes of dark red that suited her perfectly, and her Northern Irish accent was strong as she glared at the man, who was trying to protest. "No, Robert, I won't let you just turn up at random and demand to take the children from me, like you're some sort of king and I should obey your every word. You ignore three of my letters, and now _I_ am being obstructive? You are truly unbelievable," Harry noticed their three children, all looking very much like their mother with green eyes, blonde hair and fine features. A tall, scowling boy slightly older than Harry was looking determinedly away, whilst a younger girl glared at her parents with her arm around her rather plump little brother.

"For Merlin's sake, woman," The very tall, powerfully built man with thick dark hair - with his square jaw, muscles and handsome face, he looked like he could've been a film star, and was the closest to Hagrid's size of anyone they'd met so far - yelled back loud enough to be a PE teacher, ignoring the woman's not so subtle attempt at keeping their affairs vaguely private. "You nag me for not paying attention to the kids. You nag me for not paying you their money. And now you nag me for wanting to spend an afternoon with them and buy their school things? Make up your bloody mind, Cersei," The woman, Cersei, glanced around - she looked oddly familiar to Harry - noticing they had an audience. She tossed her hair disdainfully, giving Robert one last scathing look.

"The happiest day of my life was the day I was no longer married to _you_ ," She spat at him, before turning on her heel in a swirl of robes and marching out of the pub, the three children trailing after her. The taller boy looked positively mutinous and glared at Harry as he went by. The girl merely glanced at them with bright green eyes, then led her younger brother out. Hagrid awkwardly cleared his throat, getting the attention of the man, Robert.

"Don't envy you with her," He said sympathetically. "She still giving you a hard time, eh?" Robert glowered and sat down heavily at a table, taking a long swig from a tankard in front of him. Hagrid joined him, and Harry unsurely followed his example.

"She's still a vicious, cold-hearted bitch if that's what you mean," Robert drank again. "What doesn't she understand about 'I'm busy chasing dark wizards'? Funny thing is, I get along fine with her brother. _Brothers_ , even, Tyrion is a right laugh to drink with even if he is a sly little shit in everything else. And I've worked with Jaime for fourteen years. How is it possible for twin siblings to look so alike but act so different?" 

"Jaime always was different to the rest of 'em," Hagrid said. "He's a decent bloke, I don' care wha' anyone says about Aerys Targaryen. Worth ten times his sister," Robert chuckled darkly.

"Sometimes I wonder," He said. "Cersei can do no bloody wrong in his eyes. He used to visit practically every other day when we were married," He finished his drink and moodily slammed the tankard down on the table.

"They're twins," Hagrid shrugged. "Bound ter be close and all that. They were like tha' in Hogwarts too, even though his friends all hated her," Robert made a noise of agreement, then his gaze fell on Harry, squinting at him.

"Is that - Potter's boy?" He said in shock. Hagrid chuckled, clapping Harry on the back and almost knocking him off his chair.

"Took you long enough ter notice, yer great lump," He said. "Harry Potter, meet Robert Baratheon. He's an auror - a dark wizard catcher,"

"Like the police?" Harry asked. Hagrid frowned.

"Prob'ly," He scratched his head. "He was a couple of years ahead of your parents in school,"

"Didn't know them that well in school, if I'm honest," Robert said. "And the Order was - " Hagrid noisily cleared his throat and Robert broke off, grinning. "Dumbledore again? Ah well. You look just like him, anyway," Hagrid agreed, getting to his feet.

"Well it was nice seein' you," He said. "Best be getting Harry home," The men clapped each other hard on the back; Robert didn't so much as stumble. "Good luck with, you know," He grimaced at the door the blonde woman had left through. "Try not to drink yourself ter death in 'ere. Go find Stark, I saw him round today, with six ruddy direwolves in tow o' course," Robert laughed.

"I'm meeting Ned later," He said. "He told me about those wolves. Hope Cat's not with him, I don't think I can stand seeing someone with a wife who's beautiful _and_ not cold as bloody ice. Anyway. See you Hagrid. Harry,"

"Bye," Harry said as they left.

"He's known as the Demon o' the Trident," Hagrid muttered to Harry once they were back in Muggle London. At Harry's curious look, he continued. "He fought against You-Know-Who, beat loads of his best men. 'Specially at this one famous battle, called the Trident, hence the name," Harry knew that witches and wizards must fight with wands, somehow, but Hagrid's story made Robert Baratheon sound like a warrior out of a medieval legend. Harry could imagine the man fighting in armour with a huge sword, against faceless monsters and dark magic.

"He must be a very good wizard," He said. Hagrid chuckled.

"Aye, he is, despite not paying that much attention in school," He said. "Aurors have to be good, though. Comes with the job. Yer dad's old friend became an auror. That woman, Cersei's, brother, Jaime, and he's the best of the best, and knows it too," He laughed. "C'mon, it's getting late. Reckon Dursley found their way back without a boat?"

 


	3. The Mad King

"Ron," Harry looked up as a girl poked her head around their compartment door. She was fairly tall, and looked to have Spanish heritage, with dark hair, dark eyes and tanned skin. Another girl stood behind her, again black haired but with pale skin and blue eyes. Both must have been a year or two older than Harry and Ron. "Have you seen Fred and George? Or my cousin, she's wandered off again,"

"The twins came by a minute ago, said they were finding Lee Jordan and his tarantula," Ron mumbled through a mouthful of pumpkin pasty. He swallowed, speaking clearly again. "And which cousin? There's bloody loads of you,"

"Sarella," The girl said. "The Ravenclaw one," Ron shook his head.

"No, haven't seen her," 

"No problem," The girl shrugged, smiling slightly. "She's probably found them already if there's a tarantula involved. Who's your friend - " She glanced at Harry and her eyes widened a fraction, but her face remained calm. She merely smiled. "Nice to meet you. I'm Rhaenys Martell,"

"Bella Rivers," Her shorter friend was peering over her shoulder with a grin.

"Harry," He introduced himself, a little surprised by Rhaenys' unusual name but realising it must be normal in the wizarding world; Draco Malfoy was hardly a typical name, and neither was Cersei Lannister. 

"I imagine you've gotten enough fuss already, so we'll leave it out," Rhaenys said wryly. She was the first person to realise that, which Harry was grateful for.

"Will we?" Bella sounded disappointed. "Why, it's not like it is for you. People _like_ the Boy-Who-Lived," Rhaenys elbowed her in the ribs without looking back, and the girl winced but laughed loudly. Harry wondered what they were talking about.

"You leave him alone," Ron said, a little disgruntled. "I know what you're all like, especially you," He stared pointedly at Rhaenys, who turned her laughing eyes to him.

"Love you too, Ronald," She said. Harry noticed Ron's ears had turned red. "But yes, actually. My cousin will probably have got herself bitten by the tarantula by now in her curiosity, so we'd better go,"

"Yeah, we'll leave little Ron to his boyfriend," Bella cackled as Rhaenys smiled, shutting the door and they were both gone. Harry turned with a raised eyebrow to Ron, who was scowling after Bella.

"Who were they?" He asked.

"You know my brothers Fred and George, who came in a minute ago?" Ron said. "They're their friends. More's the pity," Harry grinned.

"What's the matter?" He said. "They seemed alright,"

"They're both mental," Ron grumbled. "Bella's half-sister works with my brother Charlie in Romania, so the twins have known her ages, she's always been a pain. And Rhaenys is scary," Harry laughed, and Ron grinned. "You laugh," He said darkly " She seems fairly normal, her whole family is obviously..." He trailed off. Harry gave him a questioning look. "Oh yeah," Ron exclaimed. "I forgot, you wouldn't know," He leant forward almost conspiratorially. "You know You-Know-Who?"

"Yeah," Harry had been more comfortable just saying Voldemort.

"Well his official partner in murder and destruction was Rhaenys' grandfather," Harry's eyes widened and Ron nodded. "I know. I say official because everyone knew the man was a loony, completely mad, thought himself a lord of dragons or something stupid, everyone called him the Mad King. Dad reckons You-Know-Who only kept him around because of his money and name. Targaryen. They're pureblood, about as pure as you can get. Literally. Their family tradition is marrying brother to sister," Ron grimaced and Harry did too.

"So they're actually mad, then?" He asked. "Not just... weird,"

"Well her grandfather Aerys was," Ron said. "He married his sister and was obsessed with blood purity. Everyone thought her father was alright for a long time - he was in Ravenclaw, my parents knew him, said he was decent enough - but then he kidnapped a fourteen year old girl and ended up fighting for You-Know-Who too, so that went up in flames," Harry thought on this for a moment.

"Rhaenys introduced herself as Martell," He said. "Not Tar - whatever it was,"

"Wouldn't you?" Ron shrugged. "Her mother's family took her in after. Her father died fighting with Voldemort - _Bella's_ father killed him, believe it or not, and they've been friends since first year - and her mother was murdered the day You-Know-Who vanished. Pretty nastily, I think, Mum won't tell us what happened. But Rhaenys looks more like a Martell - real Targaryens are all white skinned, silver haired and purple eyed, from the inbreeding - and lucky for her, she can distance herself from it a bit. She always makes a point of her name being Martell," He suddenly looked a bit nervous. "Don't tell her I told you all this, she's scary when she's angry, and her hundreds of cousins are worse,"

"I won't," Harry said. "She doesn't actually have hundreds of cousins, does she?" He wouldn't be surprised if she did; he wasn't sure anything could surprise him after talk of brothers marrying sisters and purple eyed, silver haired maniacs.

"No," Ron grinned. "At least ten, though. I never remember how many. The ones I've met are all terrifying - the girls, anyway - one of her uncles is high up in the Ministry and the other is a cursebreaker, he's worked with my brother Bill. They call him the Red Viper,"

Harry looked out the window, watching the countryside go by. The Wizarding World was even more vast and complex than he had imagined.

*

"There," Ron hissed as the first years spilled out onto the lake shore from the path, and Harry looked over. In the dim light of Hagrid's lantern he didn't know what Ron wanted him to look at. "Blimey, I didn't realise she was in our year," Harry followed his stare, finally spotting a fairly short girl standing at the edge of the shore, a little away from the main group. It was dark, but her silver hair and pale skin reflected the moonlight, making her look not quite human. "A Targaryen," Ron said needlessly. "The Mad King's _daughter_ ," 

They were the last to get into a boat, meaning they were stuck with the bossy, bushy-haired girl from the train, Hermione Granger, and the seemingly outcast Targaryen girl.

"What's your name?" Hermione asked the girl, oblivious to what the rest of the Wizarding world apparently knew. "I'm Hermione Granger," The girl seemed a little taken aback by Hermione's forward manner. Harry found himself grimacing in sympathy as the girl glanced at them with wide eyes - wide _purple_ eyes, he realised with a jolt - then looked away. _Her parents were brother and sister_.

"Dany," The girl said, then quickly retracted. "Daenerys. Daenerys Targaryen," Hermione seemed happy to continue talking away, and Daenerys seemed happy to sit quietly. It was unclear whether she was listening or not. She barely looked at any of them, which was probably for the best as Ron continued to glower suspiciously at her the whole journey across the lake. She seemed rather shy. Not what Harry had expected from the daughter of Voldemort's - no, You-Know-Who's - insane, evil accomplice.

*

Harry watched the Sorting as it continued after he'd sat down at the Gryffindor table and been clapped on the back by Robb Stark.

"Stark, Sansa,"

"RAVENCLAW!" Robb and Jon cheered as Sansa gracefully made her way to sit at the Ravenclaw table.

"Don't know how she ended up there," Harry heard Robb chuckle fondly to a friend. "She's sweet, but I never imagined her in Ravenclaw,"

"She likes reading, doesn't she," Jon suggested.

"Yeah," Robb snorted. "Mushy romances and fairytales," They broke off as another name was called. The entire hall fell completely silent.

"Targaryen, Daenerys," The small silver-haired girl looked nervous as she climbed up to the stool. People were whispering now, and muttering, almost like they had when Harry had been sorted, but now they sounded decidedly unfriendly. The hat was silent for a long time, before yelling out,

"GRYFFINDOR!" There was a shocked silence. Then, following Headmaster Dumbledore's lead, the Gryffindor table started to hesitantly clap, but it was half-hearted at best as Daenerys came and sat down at an empty space nearby, seeming to want to melt through the floor though she kept her gaze straight ahead. Even as the sorting continued, people were craning their necks to look at her, and more mutterings and whispers were heard.

After the sorting, as they all stuffed themselves with the impressive feast that had literally appeared out of nowhere, Harry found himself listening to the conversation of the Starks nearby. 

"No way do you have _six_ direwolves in Winterfell," A tall, heavy-set boy, who looked very much like Robert Baratheon, was saying.

"We do," Robb insisted. "We found them in the forest, at the start of the summer,"

"We would've brought ours here," Jon said. "But McGonagall said it wasn't allowed,"

"I should think not," Percy Weasley said in disapproval. "They're wild beasts, highly dangerous,"

"Oh lighten up, Perce," Fred heckled from some distance away. "You want a dangerous beast?"

"Lee's got a tarantula," George finished, grinning. "It's got fur and fangs and everything,"

"Want to see it?" Fred asked. "It might get loose in the common room,"

"Or your dorm room,"

Casting his eyes over to the Slytherin table, Harry saw the unpleasant sight of Draco Malfoy, sat with his new friends Crabbe and Goyle. Malfoy was talking to a tall, blonde boy, who Harry recognised as the boy from the Leaky Cauldron that day with Hagrid, who's mother had stormed off after the argument with Robert Baratheon. Baratheon - _that_ was who Bella Rivers reminded him of! And that other boy near Robb Stark, whatsisname, Gendry? And Ron had said Bella had another half-sister. Harry's eyes widened; no wonder that marriage hadn't lasted. This sort of gossip would've had Aunt Petunia almost giddy with excitement.

Malfoy was a git, that couldn't be denied, though Harry was quite glad Scabbers the rat had saved them the trouble of having to fight Crabbe and Goyle on the train. There were definitely some people at Hogwarts who Harry did not like, though he had a friend, Ron, which was better than anything he'd had before. 

 


	4. Daenerys Stormborn

Where most of the other Gryffindor first years had already settled into their friendship groups, Harry couldn't help but notice several exceptions. First of course was Hermione Granger. It was easy to see why she hadn't made friends with any of the other girls; she was bossy, interfering - Harry hadn't forgotten how she had followed him and Ron to the failed midnight duel with Malfoy - and a know-it-all to boot. The second was Daenerys Targaryen. Unlike Hermione - who was always first to answer questions in class, first to say when she disapproved of something, and first to vocalise her opinion on a subject she had no business in - the girl seemed to be doing her best to blend into the background as much as anyone with her silver hair, purple eyes and ethereal looks can. She rarely spoke when not spoken to first, sat at the back of class and always cast her eyes down when she was asked anything by a teacher. Harry couldn't say he blamed her. Daenerys seemed to attract as much attention as 'famous Harry Potter' did. Harry found himself unable to complain about the eager whispers and irritating fuss he got when he saw the dark looks people gave Daenerys when she passed in the hall, heard the unfriendly mutterings and rude comments she was heckled with - people often called her inbred, asked if she shagged her brother or did crude impressions of mad people - as well as the rumours of what her father had done when he'd been alive. No wonder she was quiet. Harry felt quite bad for her, as he knew from primary school what it was like to be the one on the receiving end of such dislike, and this was from people several years older.

He hadn't had much to do with her for most of the first month or so at Hogwarts, except seeing her in classes. When he and Ron had visited Hagrid on the first day, to their surprise Daenerys had just been leaving, Hagrid waving her off with a friendly farewell. That was the first and only time Harry had seen her smile. Hagrid had brushed off their questions by simply saying that he used to know her mother, and the matter soon fell from their attention after they saw the newspaper about the Gringotts break-in.

Draco Malfoy was someone Harry had learned to detest even more than Dudley. The boy was snobbish, arrogant and entitled, and loved to get under Harry and Ron's skin by making jokes about his parents, or Ron's family not having much money. The tall, blonde by from the Leaky Cauldron, Joffrey Baratheon was even worse. Harry hadn't had much to do with the boy - he was a second year, and in Slytherin - but from what he gathered Joffrey was pretty much Draco Malfoy, except taller, nastier and with a family that were a shade more rich. Thankfully, Harry and Ron had little interaction with the boy, but rumours went around the school about him. He acted nicely enough when it suited him - by nicely, that meant arrogant, entitled and much like Malfoy on a bad day - however he occasionally into rages at any provocation, responding viciously and cruelly. Many in his year, and even the year above, were afraid of him, but others treated him with disdain, which he despised. Most of the older years treated him like a spoilt child, which essentially he was. Even his own cousins, Lancel and Tyrek Lannister, seemed to have little patience with him. Harry and Ron experienced Joffrey for themselves one morning when they were walking behind him to one of their lessons. 

"A shop?" Joffrey was snorting at another Slytherin boy. "Is that all?" The other boy mumbled something. "Oh, a _big_ shop, is it?" Joffrey said disdainfully. "How impressive. My father is practically the head of the auror office, and my uncle Jaime too,"

"How can they both be heads?" Someone asked, and Joffrey glared. 

"If you don't know, then you're too stupid to explain it to," He said airily. Ron snorted and Harry shushed him. "My uncle is the most powerful wizard in the world,"

"What about Dumbledore?"

"That old bag?" Joffrey said cockily. "My uncle could beat him with his left hand, and my father too. More than your shopkeeper father could say," He was quick to take a spiteful swipe at the first boy. 

Needless to say, not many like Joffrey Baratheon, and the only ones that did did so for his wealth and Lannister/Baratheon heritage. 

A month into the term, they found the owl. The teachers tried to hush it up, but the Hogwarts rumour mill was remarkably quick and soon the story was everywhere. Joffrey didn't even seem sorry or upset that his bird - an expensive long eared owl - had been found with its belly opened and head smashed in on the stairs to the Slytherin common room, which was suspicious. It was soon revealed that he had done it himself; not even for dark magic or any particular reason, but simply because he could. Joffrey was taken by a blank-faced Snape up to the headmaster's office, and given detentions until Christmas and a severe warning to never to anything like that again or face expulsion. That was the rumour, anyway. Nothing had been proved to the other students, and though many gave him dark looks or skirted around him in the corridors, in his own house Joffrey remained as he had ever been, surrounded by lackeys and resented by most.

It was a week or so later that Harry and Ron found Daenerys Targaryen stood in the middle of a deserted corridor, her wand trained on Joffrey Baratheon, who was scrambling to his feet and clutching a bloody nose, clearly the result of a nasty jinx.

"Don't touch me," Her voice was clear, strong and _angry_. Ron turned to Harry incredulously, as Baratheon gave Daenerys a look of loathing.

"You'll pay for this," He spat, but didn't make any moves towards her. "My father is an auror who killed your brother, my uncle is the best dueller alive who killed your grandfather, and _my_ grandfather - "

"Owns half the Ministry," Ron said with dislike, and both of them spun around, finally noticing the pair.

"This is none of your business, _Weasley_ ," Baratheon sneered. 

"What were you doing?" Harry frowned. "Her robes are torn," He nodded at Daenerys, who looked pale even as her eyes flashed. Paler than normal, anyway. Baratheon glowered, seeming to want to say something but stopping himself. Having been threatened with expulsion, all four of them knew well that any more hint of trouble and the boy would be out of the school before he could blink. 

"Nothing," Joffrey ground out, moodily leaving the corridor. Harry caught the ghost of a smile on Daenerys' face.

"Are you alright?" He asked her. 

"Yes," She nodded, seeming a little unsure again now it was just them. "He just wanted to scare me a little, I think,"

"Except you scared him," Ron grinned. "Did you see the look on his face?" Daenerys smiled, then bit her lip.

"I'll get in trouble for that," She said. 

"At least you didn't end up like that owl," Harry pointed out. She smiled falteringly, but still looked worried. 

"Everyone's waiting for me to turn out mad," She said. "He'll go crying to his mother, and she'll make a fuss at the Ministry,"

"Are his family that powerful?" Harry asked.

"The Lannisters?" Ron scoffed. "Worse than the Malfoys. Even though they weren't You-Know-Who supporters, they're twice as rich and twice as evil. Dad says they practically run the Ministry. I think his grandfather and uncle - the Imp - do that. His mother's involved somehow too, don't know how,"

"The most powerful dueller alive is called the Imp?" Harry raised an eyebrow. Daenerys gave a small laugh and they both turned to her. She sobered immediately, but surprisingly - and to Harry's annoyance - Ron was grinning too. " _What_?"

"Sorry," She said. "It's just strange hearing someone who hasn't heard of Jaime Lannister. He's almost as famous as you,"

"Yeah," Ron said eagerly. "Baratheon wasn't even exaggerating, he's meant to be incredible. He's an auror too, fought in the war and everything. They call him the Kingslayer - " He awkwardly broke off with a glance at Daenerys, who wasn't smiling anymore.

"Kingslayer?" Harry frowned. "Was there a wizard king - oh," He looked uneasily to Ron, remembering what he'd said about the so-called 'Mad King'. Aerys Targaryen. Daenerys' father. There was an extremely awkward silence.

"Jaime Lannister killed my father," The girl finally said, flatly. "Some people hate him for it, saying it was unnecessary to kill an unarmed old man when the battle was already won, just for the glory. I'm not one of those people. He deserved to die," Harry and Ron both gaped at her, but from that moment, Daenerys Targaryen became their friend.

 


	5. Brienne The Beauty

"You going home for Christmas?" Ron asked Dany and Hermione - who had been added to the group after the Halloween troll incident in the girls bathroom - as the four of them sat down for breakfast.

"Of course," Hermione said. "Aren't you?"

"No," Ron grinned. "I'm staying here with Harry. Got the letter last night, Mum and Dad are visiting Charlie in Romania,"

"What about you?" Harry asked Dany. She frowned slightly.

"I'm going home," She said. "My mother wants to see me," Whilst the girl was more relaxed around Harry, Ron and Hermione now, she was still fairly quiet around others, and was often - like times like these - rather closed off. 

"There's a thought," Ron said eagerly, his mouth full of bacon. Hermione wrinkled her nose. "Where _is_ your home? Do you actually live on Dragonstone?" Dany smiled slightly. Harry glanced at Hermione, hoping she wouldn't understand like him, only to see her looking up in interest.

"Yes," Dany said. "Don't get too excited. It's gloomy, grey, and rains a lot,"

"What's Dragonstone?" Harry asked her, only for Hermione to promptly answer.

"The ancestral seat of House Targaryen," She said. "You know, like the Starks have Wintefell in the Cairngorms, and the Lannisters have Casterly Rock in Donegal? We learnt it in History of Magic," Harry looked at her blankly. "It's an island," She sighed, like he should've known that all along. "Far out in the Thames Estuary, hidden from muggles, with an enormous castle built into the island itself,"

"And lots of dragons," Dany added, grinning slightly at Hermione. "Stone ones. Everywhere,"

"I can't believe you live in a castle," Ron said a little enviously. "I mean, I can see Malfoy or Baratheon prancing around one like they own the place - "

"Baratheon _is_ set to inherit the Red Keep," Dany reminded him. "And probably Casterly Rock, if Tyrion and Jaime Lannister have no children,"

"How do you remember all those _names_?" Ron said, then glanced at Hermione. "Doesn't matter. The Red Keep isn't a proper castle. Anyway, I thought it was owned by your family?"

"It was, ten years ago," Dany said, and Ron grimaced as Hermione elbowed him.

"Oh, yeah," He said. Dany just smiled a little sadly and turned to Harry.

"The Red Keep is a big house near the Thames in Kensington," She said. "It was repossessed in the war. Robert Baratheon owns it now,"

"Would you want to live there, though?" Ron pulled a face. "What with everything that happened?"

" _Ron_ ," Hermione hissed, but Dany didn't seem to mind.

"No," She said. "I wouldn't. But Viserys has been furious about losing it since he was eight. Now he has to be content with skulking through the halls of Dragonstone, making threats or hounding the Ministry to give him back his rightful inheritance,"

"Sounds like a right nutter, your brother," At this particularly tactless comment from Ron, Dany finally frowned. Even Harry understood why that was the wrong thing to say.

"Mother does worry," Dany said. There was an uneasy silence, until Hermione started talking loudly about homework and conversation returned, but Harry noticed how Dany didn't eat another bite after that.

*

Christmas came and went. Not without event of course, the Mirror of Erised and his dad's invisibility cloak were not easily passed over, nor their unsuccessful search for who Nicholas Flamel was. When everyone returned after the holidays, both Dany and Hermione were enthralled by Harry's new cloak. This was a welcome distraction, as Dany had come back from the holidays just as quiet and closed off as she had been when they first met her. They - Hermione especially - had asked her what was wrong, but she shrugged them off, or just ignored them. Hermione had whispered to them that she saw some nasty bruises on Dany's neck and chest when she was getting changed in the dorm, but the other girl had asked her to leave it and not make a fuss. Dany was fine after a week or so, however Harry couldn't help but wonder. The Dursleys had never outright beaten him, though he'd gotten many a cuff round the head if he misbehaved or asked questions, and they weren't exactly gentle in any other aspects. But he himself caught a quick glimpse of the bruises on Dany's delicate neck as she stretched in the common room with her tie undone, and saw that they were definitely not from a passing blow; she'd been choked. By large hands. Man's hands.

*

A week or so after the holidays found Harry and Ron stood on the lawns by the lake, looking nervous as Dany mounted the Nimbus 2000. Hermione wasn't there - 'I've got lots of homework to do, Ron, and have no interest whatsoever in watching you lot show off on a broomstick' - so it was just the three of them.

"Are you sure you want to fly that?" Ron asked doubtfully. "No offence, but we saw you in flying lessons, and you weren't... brilliant," She hadn't been.

"I'm a Targaryen," Dany laughed. "Blood of the dragon. I'll show you I can fly," Harry grinned at Ron's face as she kicked off from the ground, but his heart was in his mouth at seeing his beloved broomstick in the hands of someone who had indeed been shaky - at best - whenever he'd seen her fly before.

But whatever she was now, Dany wasn't shaky. At all. Both Ron and Harry gaped as the girl flew like she was one with the broom, effortlessly, daringly and gracefully, flying zig-zags, spirals and loops. Ron even yelped as she pulled off a reckless dive, sweeping frighteningly close to the ground before corkscrewing off, barely skimming the surface of the lake.

"I think she's better than you," Ron said weakly to Harry, who nodded, awed.

"I think so too," He never seen anyone fly like that before.

As amazing and natural a flier Dany was - though she insisted that was how she had spent much of her childhood, flying round the spires and jagged peaks of Dragonstone - it turned out that Harry did not have to be concerned about being replaced on the Quidditch team anytime soon.

"How can you be that good on a broom yet be that awful at catching?" Ron said in amazement as Dany fumbled the Quaffle for what seemed like the hundredth time, after many ridiculously easy throws. Catching golfballs acting as snitches with the help of Wingardium Leviosa didn't prove much better.

*

The day of the Gryffindor vs Hufflepuff Quidditch match, Harry looked up from his breakfast as the hall erupted in varied boos and cheers as the Hufflepuff team walked in. A group of rowdy sixth year Gryffindors were even heckling, calling out to the Hufflepuff beater, a huge fifth year girl who looked like she could take out half the team with one punch. She was huge, muscular rather than fat, and moved rather lumberingly, with hunched shoulders.

"Brienne the Beauty," One of the Gryffindors yelled mockingly. Brienne ducked her head and avoided looking at them. Hermione scowled.

"They shouldn't be so cruel," She said disapprovingly.

"She _is_ ugly," Ron pointed out, tactful as ever. Hermione glared at him.

" _I_ heard that she's one of the best witches in her year," She said pointedly. "She's going to go onto auror training after Hogwarts,"

"She's really nice, too," Dany added, sitting down to join them.

"More importantly, she's brilliant at Quidditch," Harry said moodily. Nerves were coiling in the pit of his stomach like a wriggling snake, and he could barely force down his breakfast. The thought of facing that enormous girl - said to be one of the best beaters in Hogwarts history, and she looked strong as an ox too - wasn't helping at all. "Wood said I should be glad her teammate from last year is gone. Her and Renly Baratheon were brilliant as a pair. They're why Hufflepuff thrashed us in the finals last year," Ron looked at Brienne, then doubtfully back at Harry. 

"She looks like she could do that on her own,"

 


	6. Mya

"I'm going to Hagrid's," Dany said, coming down wrapped in her winter cloak. "Coming?"

"Again?" Harry asked, incredulous. Ever since Hagrid down them the Norwegian Ridgeback egg, Dany had been going down to his hut at every possible opportunity.

"You're obsessed with that thing," Ron said.

"It's a _dragon egg_ , it's interesting," Dany protested. "Hermione, you understand,"

"Yes it's fascinating," Hermione agreed, looking torn. "But I'm sorry, I hate to say it, but I'm siding with Ron this time," Ron grinned as Dany looked indignant.

"It's fine," He said. "We get it, it's a weird Targaryen thing," Dany hit him.

"Blood of the dragon, remember," Harry said, making Ron laugh loudly. Dany glared at him.

"Not you too," She said. "Fine. I'll go on my own,"

Harry still remembered the first time they'd seen the egg. It was hard to forget, not least because it was a _real dragon_  egg - his inner eight year old still couldn't quite get over that - but also because of Dany's reaction to it. She'd known it was there even before Hagrid told them, and the look on her face had been eerie, something ancient burning behind her eyes. She had reached out a hand almost reverently, and before anyone could stop her she had plunged it into the fire to rest a palm on the egg's ridged surface. The three of them and Hagrid had all cried out in shock, but she had been just as shocked as they were to see her hand was unharmed, even as flames flickered around it and the egg must be scorching to the touch. It was unnerving, to say the least.

Hermione, of course, had spent the next few days furiously researching any type of magical condition that would allow that to be possible, when by all rights Dany's hand should be a burned, blistered mess. The best she could come up with were several stories - rumours, really - of the Targaryens of old, the only witches and wizards in history ever to ride dragons. Though the accuracy of those claims was disputed, everyone agreed there had always been something odd about the Targaryen family, beyond the obvious incest and insanity. Being slightly resistant to flame was mentioned, as well as prophetic dreams. Dany had frowned at this, saying those apparently prophetic dreams were what drove her dead brother Rhaegar to kidnap fourteen year old Lyanna Stark and escalate the war with Voldemort further. That was the only other family member she could think of who displayed any of those reported traits. Her other brother, Viserys, showed nothing but the madness of their father.

*

"I hate that dragon," Harry said as he, Hermione and Dany sat on the floor of Hagrid's hut, the abandoned crate kicked to one side as Hagrid stood over them, upset more at them than the dragon (' _you're scarin' hi - her_ '). Norbert the Norwegian Ridgeback - now known as Norberta, after Dany had pointed out it was female - had grown to the size of a small dog, and was currently as docile as any housecat as Dany idly scratched behind its horns. If anyone else tried to so much as touch the little beast, even Hagrid, they got bitten, or slashed, or scorched. The creature never showed such inclination towards Dany, who was as bad as Hagrid when it came to sticking up for it.

"We need to get it in the crate," Hermione said decisively, though she sounded as weary as he did. 

"We've been trying for hours," Harry pointed out. Dany hadn't arrived until several minutes ago, and prior to that had been a mess. Norberta was leaving that night, with Charlie Weasley's friends from Romania, and he, Ron - who was still in the hospital wing after being bitten by the dragon - and Hermione couldn't be more glad. Dany, on the other hand, seemed sad, almost as heartbroken much as Hagrid. Harry could honestly not imagine why. They had done everything they could think of to get that damned dragon into the box, and had been sat on the ground exhausted whilst the evil little beast picked its claws in the corner. That was when Dany had walked in and let the dragon crawl all over her, round her shoulder and on her head, like it was a pet rather than something that would grow up with foot-long fangs and fiery breath. 

"You were scaring her," Dany said a little reproachfully, and Harry and Hermione exchanged incredulous looks. "No wonder she wasn't going in. I don't see why they can't just let her fly alongside them,"

"If you haven't realised why by now, there's no point trying to explain," Hermione said, rather disgruntled. Her idea of throwing meat into the crate to entice the dragon inside had failed miserably, and earned her a scratch on her wrist. Dany glared at her.

"Here," She said, then proceeded to gently coax Norberta into the crate in under a minute, closing the lid with a distasteful expression on her face as they gaped at her. "I still don't like it,"

"You did it," Hermione blinked. "How - "

"Let's just go," Harry said quickly. "We've got to get her all the way to the tower yet,"

*

Charlie's friends who came to pick up Norberta were a nice bunch. Harry recognised Bella and Gendry's half sister Mya Stone easily; all the children of Robert Baratheon seemed to have the same black hair and blue eyes, except those he had with Cersei Lannister. Mya was a woman in her early twenties, tall and lean with muscle, her black hair cut at her chin, with a wicked grin and sharp wit, very different in personality to the rather surly Gendry, and the loud, unabashed Bella. She of all of them seemed to understand why Dany was so sad at the idea of the dragon leaving. 

"You can come and visit her in Romania once she's settled in, if you like," She suggested to the younger girl, grinning. "In fact, we'd love you to. It's incredible how she responds to you. It would be fascinating to look into," Dany seemed slightly happier after that, and the farewell was eagerly awaited by Harry and Hermione. At last, Norberta was gone, hung in her crate in a harness between the broomsticks. They left Dany up on the tower watching the dragon be flown away, gleeful in their success as they climbed down the stairs. Only to be caught by Filch at the bottom of the staircase and dragged to McGonagall. Lucky Dany stayed up there, and was smart enough not to follow them. 

 


	7. The Philosopher's Stone

Harry and Hermione - along with Neville, to their dismay, and Draco Malfoy, to their delight - earned a detention for their nighttime excursion, as well as a deduction of fifty points each from their respective houses. This lost them any popularity they may or may not have had; they were the new most disliked members of Gryffindor house, who were angry (perhaps rightly so) for costing them a hundred and fifty points in one night, along with any hopes of winning the House Cup. Slytherin were in the lead again, and looked to win for the eighth time running. Ron, who had been in the Hospital Wing, did try to comfort them, but he, like Dany - who had stayed at the top of the tower to watch Norberta be flown off, and had been smart and hidden under the unfortunately forgotten invisibility cloak whilst she made her way back to Gryffindor Tower - gave off the distinct impression of 'rather you than me'.

The trip into the Forbidden Forest for their detention was unsettling to say the least. Having been rescued by Firenze the centaur from whatever that... _thing_ that had killed the unicorns had been, Harry was convinced that Snape was working with Voldemort to steal the Philosopher's Stone, which Fluffy the three-headed dog was guarding. After McGonagall would not listen to their fears, Harry had intended to go after Snape himself, but his three friends had come with him, to the third floor corridor and down the trapdoor.

It was the most danger any of them had been in in their lives, or remembered being in, anyway; Dany had only been a newborn baby during her mother and brother's flight to Dragonstone in the greatest storm in a hundred years to escape Voldemort and Aerys Targaryen. The four of them had got through Professor Sprout's Venomous Tentacula, and managed to capture Flitwick's flying key, but then Ron had sacrificed himself in McGonagall's giant wizard's chess game and been knocked out by the white queen. Dany had stayed with him - practically declaring 'I won't be much use, Hermione is far more clever and Harry needs to go on' - and volunteered to go back to fetch help. Hermione had caught her up, carrying an injured Ron as she was, after she had been turned back by Snape's potion room. Ron soon woke up, albeit a little groggily, and they had raced back to the school to find a teacher, thankfully in time to save Harry from Quirell, who as it turned out was the traitor and not Voldemort.

Harry had woken up in the Hospital Wing to talk with Dumbledore, and to his relief had been able to attend the leaving feast, where Gryffindor had been awarded over two hundred bonus points for the brave deeds the four of them (and Neville) had done. They had won the house cup, beating Slytherin for the first time in years - Joffrey Baratheon had stood up and loudly proclaimed the unfairness of it all, and that his mother would hear about this, only to be dragged down by two Lannister cousins, Lancel and Tyrek - and Harry felt like he could never be happier. 

This only made the return to the Dursleys for the summer infinitely more depressing than it would have been anyway. Hagrid's parting gift did manage to brighten Harry's day, however. It was a beautiful album of photographs (which _moved_!), all of his parents. Harry had never been more touched by a present. Back in his small bedroom in Privet Drive later that day - after a chilly reception from his aunt, anger from his uncle and (admittedly rather amusing) terror from his cousin - Harry pored over the book, trying to memorise every inch of the faces of his mother and father, which he had seen for the first time he could remember at Christmas in the mirror of Erised. His father James, who did look exactly like him, even down to the glasses, only with laughing hazel eyes, a longer nose and a mischievous grin. His mother, who was red haired and vivacious; she had green eyes, like Cersei Lannister, only Harry thought Lily Potter's were warm, kind and far more beautiful than Cersei's ever would be even if the Lannister woman's looks outshone all. 

Other people often appeared in many of the pictures. Hagrid was in several, beaming widely, which were clearly from his own collection. Many more included people Harry did not know. There was one of his mum with a group of other young women around her age, and Harry had flicked it over and seen there were names on the back, scratched in pencil and dated 23rd December 1979; there was his mum, Lily, fierce Dorcas Meadowes, doe-eyed Mary McDonald, Catelyn Stark - Robb and Sansa's mother looked austere even then - alluring Ashara Dayne, smirking Barbrey Ryswell. They weren't all in the same year at school, so Harry wondered how they had met. Perhaps they worked together. It suddenly dawned on him that he did not know what either of his parents had done for a living. Uncle Vernon had always said his father was an unemployed drunk, but he had also said that his parents died in a car crash, so Harry wasn't that inclined to believe him. 

He turned the page to the next picture. This one was of his father and his friends at Hogwarts, and though on the back it was dated (20th May 1977) it did not say who the others in the photo were. James Potter was in the middle, and would have been the shortest of the group had it not been for a plump, mousey boy who was a few inches shorter. Harry could not tell if his dad and the plump boy were short, or if the other three were just tall. Perhaps a bit of both. James had one arm around the shoulder of the plump boy and the other around a tall, dark haired youth with shoulder length hair and badges of muggle rock bands pinned to his Gryffindor tie. There was a blonde boy beside him, with hair just as long, who was smirking and looked strangely familiar. A rather shabby looking thin boy with light brown hair was stood smiling beside them. There was no question that the dark haired boy and the blonde were the most handsome members of the group, and knew it. Those two and James Potter seemed to have a natural air of confidence, whereas the others just looked pleased to be there. Harry suddenly realised where he recognised the blonde boy from. He looked almost exactly like Cersei Lannister, if she had been male and had shorter hair. This must be her twin, Jaime, Hagrid had said he was friends with his dad. Harry was amazed by how much like his sister he looked, he hadn't known that fraternal twins could be identical at the same time. Harry studied his face for a moment; born rich, handsome, talented. By all rights Jaime Lannister should be as detestable as Draco Malfoy or his nephew Joffrey. Yet surely his dad wouldn't be friends with such a person. And the Lannisters were not a dark family like the Malfoys. Pureblood, yes, incredibly so, but Tywin Lannister had been neutral in the war against Voldemort, which counted for something, didn't it? And Jaime was an auror, a dark wizard catcher, he had killed one of the darkest, most insane wizards of all time.

He turned the page and saw another picture, of just Lannister and James Potter. They were younger here, a small scrawny boy with messy hair who could have been Harry's reflection, and a tall, grinning thirteen year old who looked a little like Joffrey Baratheon but more likeable. They were clearly close friends. None of these people could have been that close with his dad, though, Harry thought. Not once had any of them come to see him after his parents had died. He looked back at the picture, saw Lannister's bright green eyes. An old memory came to him, of a day in the park nearly six years ago, of a man with eyes like that fixing his glasses, changing his face trying to kidnap him. Could that have been Jaime Lannister? Harry wracked his brains for memories of the conversation all those years ago. The man had known how old he was, and thinking back he was definitely a wizard; his glasses had stayed whole ever since that day, even with how many times Dudley had hit him. It wasn't an enormous stretch to imagine it was one of his dad's old friends. But of all of them, surely the busy, talented auror would be the least likely to visit a child, and even if he had then why had gone afterwards and never come back. And what had happened to the other three?

 


	8. Rhaenys 2.1

Sitting on the tumbledown stone wall as the sun rose over the Devon hills, Rhaenys Martell wondered for what seemed like the thousandth time exactly how she had become friends with the biggest morons Gryffindor house had had the misfortune to produce. The flying car - she had barely believed her eyes when she saw it, a flying Ford Anglia of all things - had left for Surrey several long hours ago. Fred and George, of course, had been driving. Rhaenys couldn't believe Ron willingly went with them; she herself had flatly refused to even get in. Even if, by some miracle, they managed to kidnap Harry Potter - that _is_ what it was, a kidnapping, no matter how they dressed it up as a rescue mission - she doubted they would survive the journey back to the Burrow. Fred was driving at first, although it could well be George by now. Either way, she doubted Fred and George could be trusted with so much as a china teacup, let alone a flying car. She was quite happy to sit safely here on this wall and wait for their return. 

She had started to consider how she would explain to Mrs Weasley what had happened if three of her sons hadn't come back by morning, when the absurd blue car came crashing down to the ground. Out came the two ginger idiots, grinning like the cat that got the canary, waltzing over to her, one either side as she hopped down from the wall, forcing herself to look unimpressed even as she smirked at them.

"You didn't kill yourselves then," She said, quietly - that was essential, they did _not_ want to wake Mrs Weasley - as they walked towards the house.

"Aw, you were worried Rhae," Fred teased.

"Bless," George wore an identical expression.

"Don't flatter yourselves," She scoffed, turning to the two younger boys behind them. "Hello Harry. Ron,"

"Hullo," Ron said. She had never been able to work out if he fancied her or if she genuinely scared him. Perhaps a bit of both.

"Hi," Harry seemed a little surprised to see her - rather surprised at everything, to be honest, which given what he'd been through that night didn't seem too unreasonable - however she didn't have time to say anything else as a furious Molly Weasley marched from the house. Rhaenys bit her lip and melted behind the three Weasleys as they all groaned at once, and hung back beside the small, dark-haired boy. 

"Keep your head down for this," She advised him. "It won't be pretty. She'll chew the twins out, probably Ron too, but we'll be fine if we stay out of it. She likes me, and hasn't been able to stop talking about how her Ron is friends with the famous Harry Potter," She grinned, and he still looked rather nervous as they trooped into the kitchen, as Mrs Weasley yelled at her sons. Frankly, she couldn't blame him.

As she had predicted, things were over fairly quickly. The boys were sent out to de-gnome the garden - Harry, for some reason, wanted to help, so went with them - and Rhaenys went upstairs to the room she was sharing with Ginny, the twins' little sister. She would've been quite happy sharing a room with Fred and George, not wanting to intrude on Ginny, but Mrs Weasley had insisted. Rhaenys could understand not wanting her to share with one boy, but didn't really want to know what the woman thought she and _both_ the twins would be getting up to if left alone, so hadn't argued on that point. It was only for a week, anyway, and she would be back home in three days.

The Burrow could never be considered calm and quiet, yet it was practically a sanctuary compared to Sunspear. The Martell family lived in an ancient watchtower - admittedly a very large, very tall, magically enhanced watchtower, with an adjoining house - but there were far too many people living there for it ever to be anything less than chaotic. There was her Uncle Doran, with his children Arianne, Quentyn and Trystane; at least his wife Mellario had moved out after the divorce, which meant fewer arguments on that front. Then there was Uncle Oberyn, with his four eldest daughters from various women across the world, Obara, Nymeria, Tyene and Sarella, then his latest - and longest standing - partner Ellaria and their four daughters, Elia, Obella, Dorea and Loreza. Obara was nearly thirty (thankfully she and Nym had already moved out) whilst Loreza had just turned five. Fifteen people under one roof, and none of them except perhaps Doran and his boys were anything less than forces of nature personality-wise. Rhaenys loved her family dearly, and they loved her, but none of them seemed to understand that sometimes it was nice to have a break, or a little peace and quiet. Compared to Sunspear, the Weasley's home was positively serene, even with the destructive force that was Fred and George and the many arguments with Percy. 

*

_Pounding footsteps behind her, booming like those of a giant. Chasing her, yelling, roaring. He was coming, coming for her, getting closer and closer no matter how fast she ran along that never ending hallway. His enormous shadow loomed over her, blood dripping from hands the size of dustbin lids. His eyes saw her, malevolent and evil, and she froze under his gaze, even as she sobbed and begged. Her legs had stuck, she couldn't move. Everyone was dead. No one was there to save her, and she was too small to save herself. The giant seemed to grow before her eyes, his cruel mouth twisted into a smirk, as he reached out to grab her -_

Rhaenys woke with a small cry of fear, tears wetting her cheeks and the pillow. It took a few moments for her to calm down. Gregor Clegane was locked away in Azkaban for life; he would never chase her down a dark corridor, hands covered in her mother and brother's blood, ever again. He never got as close as he had in the dream in reality; Jaime Lannister had got to her before Clegane had, thank Merlin, or she would be a splatter on the wall of the Red Keep like poor little Aegon. She rolled onto her back, staring blankly at the dark ceiling. It was still the middle of the night, and Ginny was breathing softly in her bed, above Rhaenys' camp bed on the floor. She furiously wiped away the traces of tears, even as she swallowed a lump in her throat. 

_Her name was Elia. Elia Martell_.

Her mother had died when she wasn't even four years old, yet she could still remember her soft hair, kind eyes and gentle hands. She could still remember her sweet voice singing her to sleep, her comforting smell, of home and of love. She barely remembered Rhaegar; she would not call that man Father, her uncles were more a father to her than Rhaegar ever tried to be. She vaguely recalled running up eagerly and hugging the legs of a tall man with silver hair, only for him to brush her off in the disinterested way he acted towards everyone, even her mother, even the many victims of his father and Voldemort. The only time he had shown a hint of any emotion that wasn't idle melancholy was when he kidnapped and raped the Stark girl, and that was madness to equal that of his father. Rhaenys had seen Lyanna Stark a handful of times, she worked in the Three Broomsticks in Hogsmeade. They'd never exchanged a word, though. She knew that Lyanna knew who she was, and was grateful the woman didn't try speak to her. It would be painful for all involved. And unnecessary. What was done was done. 

As far as Rhaenys was concerned, she was all Martell. She had been brought up by Martells, she looked like a Martell and she bore the Martell name. Never Targaryen. She did feel a little guilty for not trying to reach out to young Daenerys last year, but she had never met the girl who was her aunt before she started Hogwarts. Daenerys was a Targaryen, a full Targaryen whose parents were siblings, and neither Doran nor Rhaella (the grandmother Rhaenys had never met either) had seen fit to introduce them. Rhaenys probably should have said something, introduced herself at least, but she despised and feared any connection to her Targaryen heritage. Daenerys was friends with Harry and Ron, she recalled. Maybe she'd speak to her this year. She was a Gryffindor, after all. Not that Rhaenys was prejudiced against Slytherins - Nymeria, Tyene and Uncle Oberyn were all Slytherins after all - but in that family it seemed a safer bet to be in another house. Historically, all the worst Targaryens - and by that she meant the sadistic monsters, not the harmless madmen like Baelor - had been Slytherins. Maegor the Cruel from the Middle Ages, Rhaegal, Aerion Brightflame (who burned himself alive in fiendfyre an an attempt to turn into a dragon; he died) and the Mad King himself, Aerys. Rhaenys barely remembered her grandfather either, but she remembered the fear that had gripped her every time her mother came and told her he had summoned her, remembered the long, grotesque nails scratching her face, remembered the madness and fire in his eyes. Remembered Jaime's cutting curse that had slashed open his throat. She idly wondered why he hadn't used Avada Kedavra. It was a bit wordy, perhaps he hadn't had the time, but it wasn't like he wasn't capable of casting it non-verbally. Best dueller in the world and all that, even at twenty. 

Rhaegar Targaryen had been a Ravenclaw, however, and she resented that fact every day. She hadn't known what she wanted when she sat down on the stool nearly three years ago to be sorted. Hufflepuff was a safe bet, but she did not know anyone in that house, or anyone who had been except Ellaria Sand. Gryffindor would have been good. Obara and Arianne had been Gryffindors, Quentyn had gone there the year after Rhaenys, and she knew many Gryffindors besides her family; many of the aurors who came to check on her had been Gryffindors too. She did not want to be in Slytherin by any means, but Ravenclaw had been an extra special slap in the face. Only the fact that Sarella had been sorted there immediately after her meant she hadn't cried there and then at the table, but Rhaenys hadn't missed the looks some of the teachers exchanged when the hat screamed out her house. She had accepted it now - few people knew Rhaegar Targaryen's old house, or just assumed he was a Slytherin as everyone was prone to do with dark wizards (completely forgetting cases such as this, Barty Crouch or Sirius Black) - and anyway, Uncle Doran had been a Ravenclaw. Though with a family as large as hers, she could say that about any house.

Fred and George had been her friends since the very first lesson of first year, potions with Gryffindor. They had gotten into trouble with Snape, and somehow she had been dragged into it; the resulting detention made them ever closer, and soon their little group was formed when Sarella joined them, then the twins' friends Lee Jordan and Bella Rivers, two more Gryffindors. Yes, being a Martell was enough, and Rhaenys would honestly be happy to never hear the name Targaryen ever again. 

 


	9. Harry 2.2

"Dany!" Harry called out, trying to hide his relief as he saw a familiar face in the unfamiliar and quite clearly dodgy Knockturn Alley. He still didn't quite know how he had ended up here after stepping into the Floo for the first time at the Burrow. His friend looked up in surprise - she wore a blue cloak that covered her silver hair, it was only by chance that he'd even seen her - and her eyes widened to see him making his way over.

"Harry," She frowned slightly, glancing behind her. "What are you doing _here_?" Behind them, a witch called out her wares of human toenails from a tray around her neck.

"Floo powder," He said, and a look of understanding crossed her face.

"Oh, of course, you wouldn't have used it before," She glanced behind her again, pulling the hood of her cloak more forward. "Do you know your way back to Diagon Alley?" He shook his head, thinking she seemed a little distracted. "It's just up there, past that stall with the shrunken heads and left, then right - "

"Can't you just show me the way?" He asked. He wasn't sure he wanted to get lost again following directions here, and besides, he was glad to see her after so long.

"I - "

"Who are you?" Dany fell abruptly silent as another figure swooped down on them, making Harry jump. It was a young man, who shared very similar features to Dany like her silver hair and alarming purple eyes, but he didn't look half as friendly. He was tall and slender, but his face was gaunt, and there was something in his eyes that Dany lacked, something unpleasant. Something mad. His mouth was currently fixed in an accusing scowl as he trained those eyes on Harry. More specifically, his scar. " _You_!" He hissed. "You dare speak to my sister, Potter?" Harry was taken aback by the hatred in his voice, he had never met the man before. This must be the brother that Dany rarely, if ever, spoke of.

"She's my friend," He said, caught off guard. "From Hogwarts," He glanced at Dany to back him up, but she had shrunk back, looking troubled but saying nothing. "I was just saying - "

"You don't deserve to lick the dirt from my sister's boots, halfblood," The man sneered, in a way much like Malfoy but far more unstable, more dangerous. "Leave, before you wake the dragon," From anyone else that wouldn't sounded comical. Harry was sure he didn't want to know what 'waking the dragon' meant, and though this man was more than rude, he was a full grown wizard and Harry didn't want any trouble.

"Viserys, please - " Dany started at last, only for her brother to round on her. She quickly broke off again. Harry frowned. This was not the friend he knew. Even at the beginning of last year, she had merely been quiet, never so timid and submissive, not to anyone. She had beat up Joffrey Baratheon and effectively blackmailed him without a problem, yet now she looked more like a scared rabbit.  

"Don't _you_ tell me what to do," The man spat at her, and when she lowered her eyes to the ground, Harry could tell she would not speak up for him again. "You're as bad as Mother, Dany," Her brother rather roughly grabbed her wrist and began to pull her away, placing a possessive arm around her shoulders that Dany didn't shrug off. "We're leaving, sister. My business here is done," 

"Bye Dany," Harry's attempt at a goodbye fell flat; Dany just glanced back regretfully, and with one last hate-filled look at Harry, Viserys dragged her towards a nearby alley and out of sight. 

Harry was more than grateful to find Hagrid, and mentioned the strange encounter.

"And she didn't even speak up against him," He said, feeling a little let down but knowing what it was like to have difficult relatives and was unable to blame Dany for her git of a brother. "Just let him drag her off," Hagrid looked uncharacteristically solemn. 

"He's a nasty piece of work, Viserys Targaryen," He said darkly. "Always has been, and it'll only get worse. The boy's too much like his father fer my likin',"

"The Mad King?" Harry asked curiously. 

"Aye," Hagrid nodded. "Even looks quite like him. But it's the look in their eyes that tells if a Targaryen's gone mad or not," Harry remembered the fire dancing in the young man's irises, and shivered slightly. "Yeh shouldn't blame it on young Dany. He's dangerous, that one. Yeh wouldn't want to cross him, not even if he's yer brother. 'Specially if he's yer brother," Harry remembered the Targaryen family tradition of marrying brothers and sisters, and felt slightly sick. They soon rejoined Ron and the Weasleys back in Dragon Alley, however - the twins and Rhaenys had gone off on their own, quite probably to Knockturn Alley - and Harry was forced through Mrs Weasley's well-meant but rather suffocating fussing and horror that he had been alone in Knockturn Alley.

"Listen," He muttered to Ron when they got the chance, once they were out of earshot of Mrs Weasley. "Something weird happened in Knockturn Alley,"

"Oh yeah?"

"I - " Harry started, but was interrupted. 

"Here we are," Mr Weasley announced as they reached Flourish and Blotts, a little wearily as Mrs Weasley exclaimed over the fact that Gilderoy Lockhart was there for a book-signing. "Come along boys, we don't have all day you know,"

"Tell you later," He said regretfully. Ron gave him a weird look, but said nothing. Inside, the shop was packed full, not only with the usual Hogwarts students but also with the crowd there to meet the apparently very famous author and adventurer Lockhart, who wrote all their defence books for this year. The man was supposed to be brilliant; Harry didn't think he looked up to much more than discovering the perfect way to curl his own hair, but perhaps he was judging too harshly.

"What a prat," Ron muttered to him as they struggled through the hordes of middle-aged witches hoping to get their copies of Lockhart's books autographed. Harry had to agree. "Honestly, I've got no idea why Mum loves him so much," The majority of the people there for Lockhart were witches of roughly Mrs Weasley's age. As they waited to buy their books, the twins and Rhaenys rejoined them.

"Look who just walked in," Fred muttered.

"Malfoy and Lannister," George pulled a face. 

"Two families of rich, stuck up, sly - "

"Arrogant, amoral blondes," George finished, and Rhaenys laughed. 

"A Lannister saved my life," She said. "But I won't deny that. Three out of four of those are Baratheons, anyway, even if they don't look it," She nodded back at the people that had just entered the shop. Harry peered over the heads of the people in the crowded shop to see that Malfoy and a tall silver-blonde man who had to have been his father had walked in, shortly followed by Joffrey Baratheon and his two younger siblings had entered the shop, accompanied by their mother. Unlike the last time Harry had seen that woman, today she was smiling, albeit rather mockingly, laughing as her daughter - who looked just like her and had to be Ginny's age, as she was collecting an armful of first year textbooks - made a joke, nodding at Lockhart.

"They could be brother and sister," Ron said, eyeing Cersei and Lockhart. Both were blonde, good looking, with curly hair, though just from seeing the woman's sharp green eyes and Lockhart's baby blue ones - as well as her sneer as she eyed him - Harry got the impression that Cersei Lannister could eat that man alive. 

"You've never seen her real brother, have you?" Rhaenys said. "They're practically identical. He's taller, with shorter hair,"

"He'd better not be anything like that," Ron muttered distastefully, nodding at Lockhart. "Imagine the disappointment,"

"Jaime Lannister is not like that," Rhaenys said decidedly, then backtracked. "Well, he is a little. But he doesn't take himself that seriously, which somehow makes it... not vomit-inducing. Lockhart makes me want to be sick,"

"You don't like dear Gilderoy, Rhae?" George grinned at her. "Why ever not?"

"I thought all the girls loved him," Fred leered, and she just shrugged.

"I've known aurors my whole life," She said. Harry had heard something about her family - Targaryens, that is, not Martells - having to submit to regular Ministry checks ever since the madness of Aerys and Rhaegar. "They're the real thing. They fight dark wizards for a living, see the worst of humanity on a daily basis. He," She waved a distasteful hand at Lockhart. "Would not last ten seconds against Jaime Lannister, Ned Stark, Alastor Moody. Even Robert Baratheon, the man might be an arse, but you can't deny he's a powerful wizard," Harry was glad to find that he recognised almost all of those names. It was like he was becoming a real part of the Wizarding World. 

Of course, being the famous Harry Potter, he couldn't even go into a bookshop without getting unwanted attention. Lockhart bringing him up to the front, in front of all those people, was perhaps one of the most humiliating moments of his life, including the time Dudley and Piers stuck his head in the toilet at school when he was seven. When Lockhart announced he was to be their new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, Harry heard Rhaenys swear rather too loudly. The situation was only made worse when Malfoy came to gloat. Harry gritted his teeth through the insults, and was as angry as Ron and the twins when Lucius Malfoy materialised behind his son and began being rude about the Weasleys, even insulting Mr Weasley to his face. They attracted the attention of the whole shop when the fight broke out between Mr Weasley and Mr Malfoy. Between Mrs Weasley's angry shouts, the shopkeeper's frantic attempts to break the pair apart and the twins' cheering, Harry was able to pick out Cersei Lannister, wearing an expression of haughty distaste. Joffrey seemed to want to come over and watch, but his mother was leading him out even as he protested angrily. His sister actually seemed to agree with him, laughing as she peered over people's heads to catch a glimpse, though when her little brother seemed to be getting upset by all the shouting she quickly sobered and took his hand.

"Mr Malfoy?" At first, Harry thought it was a Gringotts goblin who had appeared beside them. When his voice stopped the fight instantly, however - Mr Malfoy hastily getting to his feet and brushing his robes off, sweating and sporting a black eye, whilst Mr Weasley was scolded in a hissed whisper by Mrs Weasley - Harry realised it was a man, just a very short one. He had a head of curly blonde hair, a rather ugly face with mismatched eyes - one green, one black - a very large head, and he wore an expression of polite amusement. 

"Lannister," Malfoy said through gritted teeth, trying to make his tone smooth and hide that he was panting. "What do I owe this... pleasure," Harry decided that he liked this Lannister purely because Malfoy clearly did not.

"Oh, it's my pleasure surely," The dwarf quipped, his polite expression slipping as he smirked. He had the same accent as Cersei, his sister? Ron and Dany had mentioned she had a dwarf brother, and Joffrey could often be heard mocking or impersonating his clearly least-favoured uncle. Tyrion? Tywin? Ty-something. "It's not every day I get to see the esteemed Lucius Malfoy losing a fight," Fred or George - or both - whooped, and the Lannister glanced at them briefly.

"It was a disagreement, nothing more," Mr Weasley stepped forward apologetically, though he still gave Malfoy a dark look, which the man returned. 

"It always is," Lannister said, still smirking. "Shame I stopped it, really. It would have been a marvellous tale to tell at the Ministry," Both men paled. "But no need. It made my niece laugh, at least," He glanced over to the grinning curly-haired girl stood beside her mother, who in contrast was looking disapproving and impatient to leave. There was a short, heavy silence. "Well," Lannister clapped his hands together. "I'd best be off. Best wishes, Arthur," Mr Weasley smiled weakly, dabbing at his bleeding lip, as the little man waddled away whilst Lockhart tried to proclaim how he would have stopped the fight himself if only he had been close enough. 

"Tyrion Lannister," Mr Weasley said as they made their way back to the Leaky Cauldron, shaking his head. "You never quite know if he's your friend or if he's going to stab you in the back,"

 


	10. Rhaenys 2.2

"Rhae, get down here," It was a week after Rhaenys had said goodbye to the Weasleys and returned home. Sunspear was just as chaotic as before; from the sounds of destruction coming from the next room; her younger cousins were fighting again, which often got nasty very quickly. It was Arianne who called her now, hollering up the stairs. Rhaenys hastened to come down, knowing exactly what awaited her from the displeasure in Arianne's voice alone. Sure enough, in the hall stood the two aurors, there as they were every year. Although the trial of Rhaella Targaryen - wife of Aerys, and the grandmother Rhaenys barely remembered - held eleven years ago to determine her exact role in the crimes of her husband and the Death Eaters and whether she should be punished for it, had resulted in the Ministry declaring her innocence - all reasonable members of the Wizangamot saw that she had been a trapped, abused woman since the day she was born and had been through hell; none had the heart to imprison her again - it also ended with the condition that all remaining members of the Targaryen family be subject to compulsory Ministry checks. You know, just in case. They were never making the mistake of leaving that family unmonitored and able to do completely what they wished again. 

Whilst Rhaenys agreed that this was a reasonable measure, considering the monstrosity of Aerys' actions and the insanity of Targaryens through the ages, it also meant that she too had to undergo similar checks to the ones they regularly did on Dragonstone. In her case, however, that just meant an unannounced visit from the auror office every six months or so, ever since she was five years old. She was never quite sure exactly what these entailed; they checked for dark magic and artefacts, that was obvious, but she had also started to suspect that they were assessing her mental state as well from some of the questions she had been asked the previous few visits.

She didn't mind the checks, really. They were usually fairly quick and painless, even though there was always the part of her that wanted to scream that she was not a Targaryen and never would be. How easy they were depended on which auror they sent. Some were gruff and businesslike, just getting on with their jobs and being rather cold. Some were arses - Robert Baratheon sprung immediately to mind. Others, she liked. Mad Eye Moody was terrifying, but she remembered being fascinated with his magical eye as a child, and the trainee who had come with Moody last year, Tonks, had been a right laugh even though she had almost killed them both tripping down the steep stairs. Today, though, it wasn't Moody or Tonks. Rhaenys grinned as she reached the bottom of the stairs and saw the familiar blonde head and cocky smirk of Jaime Lannister, the dark hair and long face of Ned Stark, and the blessed absence of Robert Baratheon's great hulking form.

"I'd go back up there," She advised her shorter cousin - though Arianne was almost a seventh year, her cousin was short and curvy, the top of her head barely up to Rhaenys' chin, who had always been tall and willowy - who was glowering as she always did at the aurors. "I think Elia's going to stab Obella soon if no one stops her," 

"We don't want that, again," Arianne turned to her with a grin, beginning to head upstairs but giving her a meaningful look as she did so, smiling at the aurors in a way that anyone who didn't know her would mistake for flirting; Rhaenys, on the other hand, could see it for what it truly was, a warning. "Just shout if you need anything," Arianne did not trust the Minstry at all. In that, she was like her uncle Oberyn and his elder daughters, who resented the Ministry and everything to do with it after the Death Eater Gregor Clegane was not given the dementor's kiss for what he did to Elia Martell and her son. Rhaenys tried not to think about that too much.

"Hello Mr Stark," She turned to the rather grim looking man, who was as grim faced and solemn as ever, but she could see the amusement and warmth in his steely eyes and slight smile. You wouldn't expect it given his reputation as a hard, stern man, but Ned Stark was one of the kindest and most decent people she had ever met.

"Hello, Rhaenys," He smiled briefly. People wouldn't expect her to like Stark - given he had fought against Rhaegar Targaryen in the battle that killed him, and was best friends with the man that did it - but she did nonetheless. She didn't hold the death of Rhaegar against him - the man was as mad as Aerys, and needed to be stopped - and he didn't hold her family's murder of his brother and father, and Rhaegar's treatment of his sister against her. Which, all things considered, was good of him. He was also kind to her, even in the beginning during the first visits, and often defended her against his boorish friend Baratheon, for whom she _did_ have a deep-set, ingrained, mutual dislike. It wasn't that he had killed Rhaegar, she told herself she didn't care about that. No, she disliked the man merely because he was a complete bastard, making her cry more than once as a child by treating her like a criminal and doing his best to pass his hatred of Rhaegar onto her. He had killed the man - and not with a wand, if the stories she'd heard were true - watched the light leave his eyes, brought down his legacy and disgraced his remaining family, wasn't that enough? If Ned Stark didn't hate her after every shitty thing that had befallen his family, Robert Baratheon had absolutely no right to. 

"No hello for me?" Jaime spoke up, and she turned to him, unable to stop herself grinning.

"Wait your turn, Lannister, you're so impatient," She hugged him regardless. Aerys died at his hand (though that was hardly a reason for her to dislike him), yet Jaime Lannister had also been the one to kill Amory Lorch as the man used Cruciatus on a three year old girl, the one to hold a sobbing Rhaenys close as she wept in pain and terror, the one to carry her past Gregor Clegane and the rest of the Death Eaters seeking her death that nightmarish Halloween night in the Red Keep. Jaime had often come to check on her of his own volition when she was little, outside of official Ministry visits, and though he did that less now, she supposed they were friends. Bella often said it was weird that she - a fourteen year old girl - was friends with a man in his thirties, but Rhaenys knew she was doing it to get a rise out of her. Bella was like that.

"So," Jaime said when they broke apart. "What dark and dangerous artefacts are you hiding under your bed this time, Miss Martell?"

"I'm as clean as a whistle," She said as they moved up the stairs. "My cousins, on the other hand... I think Nym took her voodoo project with her when she moved out, but I wouldn't touch anything in Tyene's room. Your hand might melt off,"

"You do remember that this is the auror office, Rhaenys?" Ned Stark said, looking serious but she knew he wasn't. 

"I was joking," She smiled mechanically.

"Were you?" Stark didn't seem convinced, but shook his head wearily, grinning, and she laughed. Oh, she loved it when they sent good ones along.

"How's Sansa enjoying Hogwarts?" She asked him.

"Well enough," He said. "I don't think it's entirely what she expected, but at least she's got her brothers there with her, and she seems to have made friends. There was some trouble at the end of last year, with - " He broke off, eyeing Jaime, who grimaced. Rhaenys didn't outwardly react to this, but she listened hard. She hadn't heard about this, which meant the Weasley twins hadn't either, which meant it must be being kept secret. 

"My bloody nephew," Jaime said the words distastefully. "Don't worry, I'm not my sister. I heard about what he did to your girl, I can see the boy is a vile little shit even if Cersei refuses to believe it. For what it's worth, sorry," Stark didn't look too happy, but not with Jaime.

"Wasn't your fault," He said, smiling slightly ruefully. "You didn't raise him,"

"Hm," Jaime said, not agreeing or disagreeing. "Maybe I should've,"

By this point, they had reached the landing. The sea was louder up here, crashing on the rocks below the cliff, and the cawing of the gulls was harsh and coarse. Jaime was the one to search her room this time. Rhaenys had gotten Nymeria - the best at charms, of both kinds, she knew - to place a foolproof concealment charm on her secret firewhiskey stash, in preparation for such a search like this, but Jaime broke that embarrassingly fast, looking at her in amusement. 

"Well it's not exactly a horcrux," He said, grinning. Rhaenys didn't know what that was. "Don't worry, it can be our secret. Unless those bottles are full of poison, in which case I'll have to tell Stark,"

"It's not poison," She said. "You can drink it and check, if you like," He raised an incredulous eyebrow, and she laughed.

Soon the search was over, and she had bid goodbye to Ned Stark, who had to get back to the Ministry if he wanted to leave on time to see his family. Jaime had stayed a while longer. They were now walking along the cliff, Sunspear behind them.

"The dreams started again," Rhaenys told him. He didn't reply for a moment, just stopped, watching the sea.

"They do that," He eventually replied. The salty sea wind was tousling his hair; his was the right length to make that look good, whilst hers was just getting in her eyes, and her mouth when she tried to talk. "They go, for a while, and you think you're fine, but they always come back at some point,"

"Cheerful," She said, and he smiled faintly.

"Which one was it?"

"Clegane, and you weren't there," She said, and he grimaced. "You?" He'd had one last night, she could tell. Perhaps this was why they got along well; they weren't ashamed to talk to each other about things like this, unlike with others who couldn't truly understand. She at least had the mercy of being a young child at the time, whose memories were fuzzy. Jaime unfortunately remembered crystal clear.

"The usual," He made a face. "Wildfire, screaming, watching the blood flow out of Aerys Targaryen's throat and seeing the wand that did it in my right hand," He was silent for a moment. "Gregor Clegane is in Azkaban," He turned back to her. "For life. No one gets out of Azkaban, Rhaenys," There was a wry finality to those words, the end of things that had once been. Jaime had showed her a picture of his old friends once, years ago. She recognised James Potter from the papers, of course. The mousey boy was poor Peter Pettigrew, the man who had died a few days after You-Know-Who. The handsome dark haired one with his arm around Jaime's shoulders was the one who killed them both. 

Rhaenys looked back at Sunspear. From here, muggles would only see a dangerous, crumbling ruin, much like Hogwarts, but she saw an ancient watchtower, whole and complete, built on and strengthened with magic until it was almost as high as the cliffs again. The bottom was wider than the top, containing the kitchen and storerooms, along with her cousins' lab that she tended to avoid entering.

"I know," She, smirking slightly. "He can't seem to get out of my head, either," Jaime laughed at that. 

"Best be getting back," He said, and they returned to the tower. 

The train ride to school on the 1st September was fairly normal. She sat with the twins, Bella, Lee and Sarella, and once arriving in Hogsmeade they made their way to the feast together. There was a couple of notable things in the sorting ceremony, first and foremost that Myrcella Baratheon, who everyone expected to go to Slytherin with her brother, especially considering that she looked exactly like her mother, went to Gryffindor. Rhaenys seemed less surprised at this than the girl herself - who looked dumbfounded and a little apprehensive - as Jaime had been a Gryffindor too, as had her father, Robert Baratheon. Ginny Weasley was also sorted into Gryffindor, earning huge cheers from the twins and their friends, and she scurried down to sit in the place Myrcella shuffled up to make for her. A rather small boy named Podrick Payne went to Hufflepuff, which was notable simply because didn't notice that McGonagall was calling his name until she had done so three times, before shuffling his way up to the stool, not looking at anything but his own feet. Rhaenys couldn't see Harry Potter and Ron anywhere, but she was sat two tables away so assumed she had just missed them.

It was that evening that she started hearing the rumours going round the Ravenclaw common room after the feast. Harry Potter and Ron Weasley flew a car to school. It crashed in the Whomping Willow. Snape caught them. They're being expelled. She immediately grabbed Sarella and dragged her up to the dorm, where she grabbed the ordinary looking notebook and quickly leafed through. Sarella handed her a quill, and she wrote onto the page,

_Flying car??_

The reply soon appeared beneath it, in Bella's rounded handwriting.

_Oh yes,_ shortly followed by, _they were seen by seven muggles, crashed into the Whomping Willow and somehow Dumbledore let them off!_

"And they say he doesn't have favourites," Sarella grinned. Rhaenys smirked, writing some more.

_How much are Fred and George hating being outdone by their little brother?_

The reply came fast.

_Not sure they'll be getting up tomorrow. Honestly, I think Fred is currently drowning himself in the shower._

Rhaenys laughed, setting down the book and quill. They were an ingenious way of talking to Bella in Gryffindor tower when they were on the opposite side of the castle. All it had taken was for Rhaenys to get Nym to perform the complex Protean charm on two old notebooks, so that one mirrored the other, and they had it. It was a wonder no one had thought of that before.

 

 


	11. Myrcella 2.1

Myrcella Baratheon felt slightly sick as she stood in front of the mirror that morning, tying her red and gold school tie. She had not been expecting to wear Gryffindor colours on her first day at Hogwarts. Her mother hadn't, either. She was not going to be happy, not at all. Thinking of her mother's reaction to Myrcella's sorting was what was causing the nasty sick feeling that had settled in her stomach the moment the hat cried out her house last night. She had talked and smiled and laughed with everyone else at the feast - if she was going to be in Gryffindor, then she wanted to have friends at least - but that feeling had not gone away, even if you wouldn't know it to look at her. 

Joffrey was Mother's favourite, that much was obvious, but Myrcella had always been her clever, pretty little girl, who she had ever so high hopes for. She knew that her mother had wanted her to be in Slytherin, just like her, Joffrey, grandfather even Uncle Tyrion. In fact, she knew her mother was under no doubt that she _would_ be in Slytherin. But she wasn't, and Myrcella was not sure what she should make of it. 

She hadn't had much of an opinion on her house before the previous day. Slytherin would've been fine, she supposed. At least she'd known some people there, other pureblood they'd met over the years, and Mother would be pleased. Ravenclaw would have been better, though. She had secretly fancied herself a Ravenclaw; she didn't devour books and knowledge at the same rate Uncle Tyrion did, but she liked to read, and liked to think she was smart for her age. Of all mother's children, she earned their grandfather's approval most often (whom she suspected didn't care what house any of them were in, unless it was Hufflepuff; in which case, they'd be looking at possible disownment) as he thought Joffrey was rude and disobedient, whilst Tommen was too soft and meek. Best of all, in Ravenclaw she would be away from Joffrey. Though she wasn't afraid of her brother - most of the time, anyway - and was one of the few people that ever stood up to him, she hated him for how he treated Tommen, as well as every other person and creature that crossed his path. Uncle Tyrion had bought him an owl last year, and they had received a letter home a month later from Hogwarts, saying the poor bird had been found brutally and suspiciously killed. Even Mother had seemed slightly unnerved by that, and Tyrion hadn't bought him a replacement.

It was Uncle Jaime who had bought Myrcella her pet in the summer, a long haired cat with golden fur, far more beautiful than any of Tommen's moggy kittens. Mother had approved on the grounds it looked like a lion - or as much like a lion as a housecat could be, but Mother was strangely dedicated to their golden lion crest - and Uncle Tyrion had laughed, saying it would look just like Cersei if only they turned its eyes green and made its claws twice as sharp. Despite the sick feeling that refused to go, Myrcella found herself grinning at the memory as she brushed through her own golden curls.

Uncle Jaime had been a Gryffindor. And so had her dad. Now she thought on it, it shouldn't have been as much of a surprise as it was that she ended up there too.

"She's beautiful," Myrcella looked up as Ginny Weasley, one of the other Gryffindor first years, spoke to her, a small, battered looking black book clutched in her hands. Myrcella had spoken to her a little last night at the feast. Unlike the other four girls that shared their dorm, Ginny was already dressed - her robes were either hand-me-downs or second hand, but it wasn't too obvious - and came over to Myrcella's bed. "What's her name?" Mother and Grandfather would have been furious that a Weasley even dared to speak to a Lannister (for Myrcella was under no doubt they considered her a Lannister even though her father was a Baratheon). It was for this reason, perhaps, that she gave Ginny a friendly smile.

"Cassie," Short for Cassandra, which seemed rather too long for a cat. "Have you got a pet?"

"We couldn't aff - " Ginny broke off, flushing red. "I didn't want one," Myrcella knew what she had been about to say; everyone knew the Weasleys struggled with money, and everyone knew that the Lannisters were obscenely rich. The Baratheons weren't exactly badly off either. Not that her dad did much for them except buying random, unnecessary presents when the mood struck him, and occasionally coming to visit without warning. He had other children, Myrcella knew no matter how much her mother tried to keep it from them. She already knew Mya, who had been born before her dad married Mother and who used to visit when they were little, before she went away to Romania. That big fifth year boy Gendry, who'd scowled at her at the feast, also looked just like him, as did the third year Bella Rivers, who had outright said that they were half-sisters and laughed; Myrcella hadn't been able to hold back a grin, and she suspected she'd found a friend in the girl. However, she couldn't help but notice that they all looked more like their father than she, Joffrey or Tommen did. Myrcella looked exactly like her mother, her brothers not so much, but the three of them looked all Lannister, no Baratheon traits visible in them whatsoever. The thought made her oddly and unjustly resentful, even though her dad saw his illegitimate children even less than his children by his ex-wife.

"Do you want to stroke her?" Myrcella smiled her most charming smile at Ginny, patting the bed next to her, hoping to put her at ease. The girl grinned and promptly sat, carefully smoothing the fur along Cassie's back. "We could share her, if you like. I'm sure she wouldn't mind, she seems to like you," She was hoping to make at least one friend in Gryffindor, so Joffrey wouldn't be able to rub it in her face that she was alone. The other girl's eyes lit up at her suggestion.

"You're really nice," She said, sounding so surprised that Myrcella laughed out loud. Ginny laughed too, a little embarrassed, backtracking. "Sorry. I just didn't expect you to be. Your brother - " She broke off, clearly thinking she'd said too much. Myrcella smiled ruefully.

"He's a bastard," She agreed. "I'm glad I'm not in his house," Ginny gaped at her in shock for a moment; it must be nice, finding the idea of hating one of your brothers to be so shocking. Myrcella had been rather anxious - though she kept it to herself - about going to school in the wake of Joffrey's reputation, concerned that people would judge her by her brother. She really did not want to spend the next seven years a pariah because Joffrey was an arse. 

"I thought you'd be a prissy little princess," She grinned, and Myrcella gasped in mock outrage. "I was wrong, though. You just look like one. Do you want to go to breakfast?" She decided then that she liked Ginny Weasley, for all her bluntness and second-hand robes.

Myrcella felt a small twinge of pride as she sat down at the Gryffindor table amongst the red and gold that morning, Ginny Weasley plonking herself down beside her. _This was where Uncle Jaime used to sit with his friends,_ she remembered. It was easy to forget her uncle was in Gryffindor, where the rest of the family tended towards Slytherin. Apart Uncle Gerion - who Myrcella vaguely remembered from before he disappeared travelling through Africa - all her Lannister family had been in Slytherin. Why had mother been so certain she would be in Slytherin, especially considering her dad was a Gryffindor? Just because she looked so much like a Lannister? That didn't make sense. But then again, her mother often didn't make sense, she thought gloomily.

She chatted to Ginny, as well as several of the other first years who had joined them. She had always found it easy to talk to people, and soon even began to feel rather at home, mores than at the feast. Mother would have a fit if she saw her, talking to muggle-borns and Weasleys and those she would call 'blood traitors', but Myrcella couldn't bring herself to care. Maybe that was why she had been made a Gryffindor? _Brave and stupid_. Cersei Lannister was someone who wanted people to care what she thought, and did not like it when they didn't. No wonder she worked her way up into the Ministry like she had.

When the letters arrived, in a flurry of wings and feathers, Myrcella's growing smile dropped. One of the Lannister birds, a proud eagle owl, flew down and gracefully landed on the table beside her plate. It carried four letters, she noticed, face paling as she recognised her mother's elegant handwriting on one envelope. She wasn't sure who the others were from, though she could guess at Jaime, Tyrion and Grandfather. Best get the worst over and done with. She tore open her mother's letter.

It wasn't as bad as she had been expecting, but the cold, disappointed tone made her wince slightly even though her mother had not explicitly said she was angry. Her grandfather's letter was just as cold, but that was to be expected from him; like she said, he didn't care what house she was in, so long as she lived up to the name Lannister. The next letter was from both her uncles; Tyrion teased her good naturedly about being in the house of the rash and stupid, which made her smile, whilst Jaime offered his congratulations and said that he had loved being a Gryffindor and not to worry. The final letter was from Tommen. He was two years younger than her, nine years old, but acted much younger. Nonetheless, she loved him dearly and was glad to hear from him, even if he was still having trouble with his letters. Muggles called it dyslexia, Myrcella had researched it herself - Uncle Jaime had the same problem - though both her mother and her grandfather refused to admit there was anything wrong with Tommen. A shame, St Mungo's could easily give him something to help.

She looked over at Ginny, hiding her envy as the girl beamed to open her own letter from her mother. Two of her older brothers had already been to clap her on the shoulder. Joffrey, on the other hand, was giving Myrcella the evil eye, and she knew there would be trouble the moment she left the hall. It wasn't like Myrcella could complain, however; she had been fortunate enough to be born into one of the wealthiest families in Britain. Tommen loved her. Her uncles loved her. Her father loved her, even with his many shortcomings. Her grandfather... didn't despise her. And her mother loved her too, despite that letter. She knew that. It didn't stop it from hurting any less. 

That feeling went away slightly as the howler from Mrs Weasley, directed at her second year son and Harry Potter, filled the hall with her (formidable) fury. Watching the gangling, ginger haired boy blush scarlet, sinking low in his chair as though he wanted to melt through the floor, Myrcella swore from then on to never give her own mother any reason whatsoever to send her a howler whilst she was at school.

 


End file.
